no subject

[Oh, he could tell you about retirement, Connie. He could tell you about Wash's creepy beard and Carolina's bad singing and Grif's lessons of trying to get her to relax, of burning waterparks that she hadn't been that into. He could tell about how they had gotten drunk a few times together and how they would talk around Epsilon, but not about it directly other than the one moment where Tucker whispered, It's so fucking empty. He could tell you stories.

He wanted to tell you stories. He wanted to tell someone.]

Thanks. Um, [And wow, this was uncomfortable for a minute.] wish you could have, too?

[What? What was he supposed to say to that? He didn't want to think of her being killed by the people she was friends with. Who...did that?]

Thanks. Knowing him, he'll probably find his way back. He never stays gone for long.

[He hoped...]